Black and Brave
by MissScarletInTheLibrary
Summary: Seth loves training the future of pro-wrestling with his best friend Marek...until a young Jon Moxley walks into their school, that is. Jon Moxley/Seth Rollins
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Another new story. I'll eventually finish one some day!**

 **If you want to see more, please leave a review. If there isn't any interest, I'll leave it be.**

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' _It's never what you've done, it's what you've done lately,_

 _Who cares what you're saying, if no one's listening,_

 _You don't have to like me, but you're gonna respect me,_

 _I that came from nothing…'_

Seth cut the ignition as he pulled up in front of QC Crossfit, bringing the song to an abrupt halt. He looked inside the large picture windows that were lit up against the dark night before getting out, pleased to see several people already standing around awkwardly inside.

Fresh meat.

He was going to enjoy this.

Grabbing his workout bag, he headed inside. Despite the boom of the music, and members frantically making the most of their last few minutes before they were cleared out, he was all that several pairs of wide eyes saw as he strolled over to his best friend and business partner, Marek Brave.

"How's it going, man?" Marek greeted him, pulling him in for a one-shouldered bro hug.

"Pretty good," Seth replied, dumping his bag in a corner. "Everyone here on time?"

"It seems like it, I just did a quick head count. I'll take an official roll call in a second. How's work?"

"Good, good," Seth nodded, tugging his shirt off. "They pay me to be a little shit – something I excel at, as you know – how could I complain?"

Marek grinned, "Well, when you put it like _that_. And then you get to come home and shape the next generation on your days off. You're living the dream, man."

"I really am," Seth agreed, putting his hands on his hips and surveying the new prospects. "Let's see if they're ready to be shaped. First night will be very telling."

"Alright, let's have at it then. Everybody over here!"

The students gathered in front of them, some obviously nervous, others looking more eager and at ease.

"Welcome to Black and Brave Wrestling Academy," Marek began. "Congratulations on securing a spot, you should be proud of yourselves, the competition was very tough. But now the hard work starts. Be prepared to sweat, to push yourselves to your limits, and for wrestling to take over your life. If you're not okay with any of that, then this won't be the place for you. My name is Marek Brave."

"And I'm Seth," Seth piped up, intentionally looking each student directly in the eye. "I started training when I was eighteen years old, and I've been working at it ever since. Wrestling is an art, it's a marriage of skill sets, like in-ring psychology, athleticism and coordination, being able to take the pain, being able to cut a promo. You'll wake up sore every morning, you'll push yourself to your limits, and yeah, you'll wonder sometimes if it's all worth it. If this is meant for you, then trust me, it'll be worth it. I know that when-"

"This the wrestlin' school?"

Every head in the group swung over to gawk at the late arrival.

A tall, _very_ tall, guy wearing sunglasses stood at the entrance to the Box, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He was wearing ripped jeans and a beat up leather jacket - hardly appropriate gear for wrestling. His wild blond curls, days old stubble, and sheer _nerve_ annoyed Seth instantly.

"Yeah, it is. And you are…?"

If he picked up on Seth's arctic tone, the guy didn't let on.

"Mox. Jon Moxley."

"Are you sure you're in the right place?" Marek asked, consulting the class list. "Your name's not on here."

"What? Oh, that thing. Yeah, I didn't sign up. I'm a walk-in."

"We don't _do_ walk-ins," Seth said stiffly, clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to keep his cool. "This is a very prestigious wrestling school. Only those who are truly dedicated to pursuing a career in pro-wrestling are welcome here."

"Uh, _yeah_ , why do you think I'm here…?" Mox opened his arms wide, a 'no shit Sherlock' twist to his lips.

"Take off your sunglasses," Seth snapped, ready to take this punk to task. "You're indoors. And it's _night-time_."

Mox shrugged and whipped them off, tucking them into the collar of his shirt. "So, where do you want me?"

"Out that door." Seth didn't start this school so that punk ass kids could swagger around as if the industry owed them something. He didn't give up his days off to deal with idiots like this Mox who didn't even take the process seriously.

"You didn't apply, you weren't selected, and you haven't paid," he continued, listing the infractions off on his fingers. "What makes you think you're special, huh? What makes you think you can swan in here, while everybody else had to get up off their asses and _work_ to earn their spot?"

Mox blinked slowly, which only drew Seth's attention to how pretty his pale blue eyes were. "I'm willing to earn my spot. I'm not afraid of hard work. And I don't give up."

"That's all well and good, but you can't stay here," Seth shrugged, crossing his arms. "Apply for the next class in May. Maybe we'll take you seriously then."

"Where are you from, Mox?" Marek asked, coming to stand beside Seth.

Seth widened his eyes at his partner, silently questioning his sanity. What was he doing? They were done with this guy. Why was he still engaging with him?

"Ohio. Cincy. I drove all this way, that'll tell you how _seriously_ I take this."

Seth huffed and rolled his eyes. This kid was delusional. He travelled from out of state? Big deal. He crossed state lines practically every day on the road with WWE.

"That's great, but you still can't join. It's not fair on the other students. Everybody else had to apply, they were accepted and they've paid for the class. You aren't any different." Seth maintained his stance, knowing that he could look intimidating if the mood struck him. Now was the time to employ that skill.

"What do you think, guys?" Marek asked, turning to face the students. "Do you think he should get a chance for having the balls to rock in here like this?"

Seth gaped at his friend, unable to believe what was happening. "Marek, a word?"

He pulled him over to a secluded corner, keeping his back to the arrogant punk still standing by the door.

"What the hell are you doing? We have rules in place for a reason. This punk can't just swagger in here and start training because he feels like it. Besides, he won't be able to handle it. I can tell just by looking at him."

"You've always said that rules are made to be broken," Marek pointed out. "Did you get to WWE by following the rules, Seth?"

"Well, no…"

"And you think he can't hack it based on looks alone?"

"…Yeah."

"Weren't you considered too small to be a legit wrestler…?" Marek raised his eyebrows.

"Only by idiots," Seth said defensively. His hackles were up, he was in no mood to be made a fool in front of a fresh batch of students.

"So, appearances can be deceiving," Marek confirmed. "I don't know, I kind of like him. He's got…moxy. Maybe that's how he got his name?"

"I don't _care_ how he got his name," Seth hissed, frowning. "I _do_ know that I don't want him around. It sets a bad example."

Marek looked at him strangely, "Bad example? I get that we're a business, we're here to make money as well as have fun. But you don't have to sound so corporate. This is still wrestling, our first love. Remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Seth snapped, trying to keep his voice down. "I'm not here for the money, I give up time on my days off because this is what I love to do. But what if word spreads? What if every wannabe wrestler in the Mid-West hears that we'll take walk-ins? It'll defeat the purpose of our application process. It'll tarnish our prestige. If we want to be the best, we have to act like it."

"I hear what you're saying, I really do," Marek said soothingly, resting a hand on Seth's shoulder, finding him tense. "But something's telling me to give this kid a chance – _not_ a scholarship or a permanent spot, but a chance for tonight. We'll test him out, put him through his paces, see if he really does want it as badly as he says he does. We won't look like assholes, tossing a kid with a dream out on his ass in front of other kids who have the same dream. If nothing else, it'll be a good lesson for our students. They'll see that we're not fucking around here. This isn't easy. If he can't handle it, then he'll skip out with his tail between his legs, and you'll get your wish."

Seth sighed, staring at the ceiling as he considered the proposal. "Fine. He can stay for this class. But only if I get to put him through drills."

"You got it," Marek smiled, slapping him on the shoulder and walking back over to the waiting group.

"Well, what do you say? Should we give Moxley a chance to show us what he's got?"

Although there were a few resentful looks, the majority nervously murmured their consent, bobbing their heads in agreement. Seth watched Moxley for his reaction, gritting his teeth when the man's lips lifted into a cocky grin.

"I'll be right back, gotta go change," he drawled, sauntering toward the locker room.

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He had to calm down. For whatever reason, this kid had clawed his way under Seth's skin. He seriously pissed him off. He could understand his reaction, to a point. The kid was arrogant, self-serving and plain rude. Seth didn't tolerate those traits, especially in students. Regardless of that, he himself was a professional and he would act like one. His near-tantrum had been unacceptable, he should have held it together better.

The acidity of his anger slowly dropped to reasonable levels, leaving a blaze of adrenaline in its wake. His muscles were alive, tensing when Mox reappeared wearing basketball shorts and a shirt emblazoned with 'Cry Baby Joe's' on the chest...whatever that was about.

"As I was _saying_ ," Seth continued with a pointed look at Moxley. "This will test you and push you to your limits, but if it's meant for you, you'll get a weird sort of thrill from it. I know that's what keeps me and Marek around. Tonight will be about stamina, you'll need it by the bucketful if you're going to make it in this business. We'll split up into two groups. You guys here, you're with Marek. Everybody else will be with me. Let's see what you've got."

Seth led his group, which contained a non-plussed Moxley, over to a section by the windows, his own lips curled into a sly grin.

It was time to give this Moxley kid a much needed dose of reality.

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 **A/N: I put a lot of time into writing, I'd appreciate it if you took some time to leave a review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright, let's get you guys lined up and spaced out, running on the spot," Seth instructed, breaking into a light jog himself.

He had purposefully placed Moxley front and centre so that he could keep a close eye on him. The guy wasn't in great shape, but when compared to Seth, very few people were. He prided himself on his appearance, and had been working toward this physique for over a decade. He started out lifting weights as a teenager, not really knowing what he was doing, and had eventually found Crossfit around five years ago. It was the perfect fitness system for him, providing him with the strength, stamina and flexibility that his job required. Plus, he was now extremely buff.

He'd never had a problem with showing off his body, as evidenced by the tight clothing that he had always favoured, but he was especially proud of how his hard work showed in his musculature. Going shirtless tonight was partly practical, partly a reminder to the students that Crossfit worked and if they applied themselves, then they'd see results too. Wrestling was still entertainment, there was a lot of emphasis placed on aesthetics.

"Get those knees nice and high, up, up, up. Ten more. You can do this."

Moxley was already panting, his mouth fixed in an O, short, sharp breaths emerging from it. Seth's gaze remained on his mouth for a few seconds, the shape giving him all sorts of ideas. Moxley could obviously run his mouth, which had Seth wondering what else he could do with it…

Seth abruptly stopped running, holding back the urge to reach up and slap himself. Now was not the time to be thinking about his cock. Moxley was a troublemaker, one that needed to be taught a lesson…through Crossfit, not by Seth forcing him to his knees to suck him off. Although that idea held a lot of appeal. And was certainly an innovative teaching method…

"Jumping jacks, let's go," he ordered, determined to keep his mind on the task at hand – inspiring future pro-wrestlers, not imagining one of them begging for his cum.

He focused on his breathing as he went through the exercise, happy to be back in his element. Physical performance was his thing, he studied it, he practiced, he excelled at it. There was nothing like a workout to revitalise his system after a long week on the road.

"Come on Moxley, keep up," he called out, smirking at the tell-tale signs of exertion that were already showing on the other man's face. "I thought you took this seriously?"

"I do," Moxley replied, staring straight ahead, not rising to the bait, upping his intensity instead.

Seth smiled to himself. This guy had no clue what lay ahead. If he was already feeling the burn after a few simple warm-ups, he wouldn't see it through to the end of the three hour session…which was good. It was exactly what Seth had planned.

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"Moxley! Quit slacking off and get over here," Seth yelled, beckoning the other man away from the water cooler. "I said take a minute, not five."

"Yes, sir," Moxley replied mockingly, saluting Seth as he strolled over.

Seth stared at him for a moment, feeling his dick stir in his shorts, apparently intrigued by the prospect of Moxley calling him 'sir'…even if he was obviously being a brat about it.

 _Especially_ because he was being a brat about it.

"Since you run your mouth so well, let's see if you can run other things just as well," Seth mused out loud. "Lap the building five times…I'll be watching and counting, so don't even think about slacking off... _again_."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Moxley smiled insincerely, walking over to the wall and starting to jog along the perimeter.

"I didn't say inside," Seth cut in. "Outside. Go on."

Moxley stared at him incredulously, "It's fucking arctic out there. I'll freeze my nuts off."

"You're getting a little hot-headed, maybe it'll help you cool off," Seth shrugged, indifferent to the young man's plight. "Of course, if you're not up to it, you could always take your ball and go home…"

Moxley narrowed his eyes, catching on to Seth's game. He wouldn't give this fucker the satisfaction of him admitting defeat. He had said that he was serious about this, and he meant it. Sighing, he loped over to the door, warily eyeing the frost on the glass.

"Make it ten, you really won't get the benefit of this exercise if your body doesn't have time to adjust to the cold," Seth mused, joining Moxley at the door and crossing his arms expectantly.

Rather than shoot his mouth off again, Moxley merely nodded and headed outside, his body instantly protesting against the harsh temperatures, his shoulders hunching up around his ears. Illinois in January really wasn't the place to be when wearing a thin t-shirt and shorts.

He regretted the breath he took to steel himself, the frosty air slicing into his lungs, leaving him short of breath rather than in complete control of it.

"This is bullshit," he said aloud, glancing over to see Seth waving at him, a broad smile on the fucker's face.

Did he really think it would be that easy? Did he really think that Mox would give up and crawl back to Ohio? Hardly. If this was a test of endurance, Seth would be the first to cave. He'd make sure of it.

Moxley winked at Seth, leaving him standing there with a stunned expression as he jogged along the front of the building, disappearing around the corner.

Seth scowled at his reflection in the glass, trying to deal with the conflicting emotions that this kid stirred up in him. Infuriatingly, he was attracted to him. He was rough around the edges, unkempt, clearly wild, but with an unexpectedly adorable face. It was a puzzling combination. Secondly, and he would never willingly admit this, he admired Moxley's balls for rocking in like that, giving zero fucks about the rules. You never made history by following the rules, right? Moxley was either incredibly determined, or flat out crazy.

Or maybe both.

Despite all of this, he also roused Seth's suspicions. His initial reaction had been to try and take Moxley down a peg or two. His smug self-assurance was maddening. What had he ever done to justify that arrogance? Nothing, that's what. Then there was his carelessness, lack of punctuality, and his complete lack of regard for others. Seth had no patience for that kind of rudeness. This was his passion, and his first business. He wouldn't let anybody make a mockery of it, least of all some idiot kid from Ohio.

In any other situation, maybe Seth would have been willing to give Moxley a chance. But he and Marek had worked too hard to get to this point, both professionally and personally, and they would defend this particular endeavor with their teeth showing. Anyone who got in the way of that was collateral damage.

Seth put the remaining students through a WOD for beginners while he supervised Moxley's progress, checking his watch, grasping for more reasons to dislike the guy.

Surprisingly, Moxley returned red-faced and gasping for breath in under five minutes. Sprinting on a freezing winter's night was no mean feat, and doing it in such a short amount of time was actually very impressive…but Moxley wouldn't be greeted with praise.

"Feeling refreshed?" Seth asked, observing Moxley as he bent over to catch his breath.

"Yeah," came the laboured reply.

"Great, now start the WOD. Try and catch up with the _actual_ students."

Seth walked over to Marek, who was already a little red in the face himself.

"You won't be able to teach if you keel over," Seth teased. "You sure you're up to this, buddy?"

"Fuck you," Marek breathed out, taking a deep gulp from his water bottle. "At least I'm doing it with them, instead of frowning like a moody motherfucker and watching one student in particular like a hawk…"

"What? You said that we should give him a chance," Seth shrugged, feigning innocence. "I'm doing exactly that – giving him a chance. It's not my fault that he can't handle a little discipline. Besides, he hasn't even paid for this. The kid's getting it for free thanks to your bleeding heart."

"Do you remember July 2003? We had our first match that month. Remember how excited we were? Remember how we almost pissed ourselves because we were that nervous? I know you're Mr. Money in the Bank, but it wasn't that long ago that you were performing anywhere that would have you, dressing up in weird costumes…remember that tight red devil's outfit? And let's not forget Cyberfights…"

"Shut up, you did that too," Seth sniped. "Yeah, I'm testing him. But if he can't handle tonight, I'm really doing him a favour in the long run. I'm saving him thousands of dollars."

Marek looked unconvinced, "Whatever you say."

Rolling his eyes, Seth returned to his group.

"Good job, guys. You starting to feel the burn yet?"

Several heads nodded, coupled with a few nervous chuckles.

Noticing that Moxley wasn't standing with the other students, he glanced around, finding him still doing burpees. Sweat was rolling off of him, but his eyes were dark with an almost feral determination. What a weird kid.

"Moxley, you can stop now," Seth called out.

Instead of doing as he was told, Moxley completed five more burpees before rejoining the huddle.

"I have a question!"

Seth raised his eyebrows, looking around to locate the owner of the voice. A tanned young man with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail stuck his hand up, his blue eyes wide and eager. He was very pretty, wearing a tight baby blue tank top and black shorts that hugged his firm ass and thighs.

"Sure, shoot."

"How many times should we work out in the week? And what supplements should we be taking to rehydrate?"

"That's a great question. What's your name?"

"Tyler," the guy said, smiling at Seth's praise, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Tyler Breeze."

"Well, Tyler, you'll be working out here three days a week as part of the class, so see how that goes for a week or two. Your body will need to take a little time to adjust to the programme. If you feel up to it, you're more than welcome to train more frequently than that. You have unlimited access to the Box here for the next twelve weeks, I'd recommend making the most of it."

"Oh, I will," Tyler assured him. "I started doing Crossfit the week I got accepted to the Academy."

"That's great," Seth smiled. "As for hydration, if you follow my Twitter-"

"I do."

Seth nodded, liking Tyler's enthusiasm. "Awesome. Then you'll know that I'm a big fan of Nuun for hydration. Kill Cliff will do you the world of good too. I train pretty much every day. They're the products that allow me to train so aggressively. They work for me, I think they could work for you too."

"Thanks," Tyler said, smiling sweetly, almost batting his long lashes at Seth.

Seth was flattered, but not all that surprised. He was used to a certain kind of attention when he was sweaty and shirtless. Granted, it didn't usually come from male students, but he wasn't going to discriminate.

A throaty stream of muttered words drew his attention away from the pretty young man, and back to another pretty, albeit in a different way, young man.

"Yes, Moxley?" Seth asked, sounding bored. "Do you have a question too?"

"Yeah, I do. When are we actually gonna get in the ring? Running around in subzero temperatures is great and all, but I came here to learn how to wrestle."

Seth's mouth dropped open. This kid had some nerve.

"You haven't even paid!" He spluttered, stating the obvious because Moxley had apparently forgotten.

Closing his eyes, he took a calming breath. When he had leveled out, he reopened them and spoke evenly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we will be getting in the ring. But don't expect to be hitting Phoenix Splashes your first night out. If you're so eager to start, then let's get in there."

Seth hopped up on to the apron and sat on the middle rope, holding it down so that the students could enter.

Tyler smiled coyly at him as he slipped into the ring, bending low and thrusting his ass out for good measure.

Seth watched him, amused by his antics. He would never cross a line with a student, but it sure was entertaining to see Tyler lusting after him shamelessly. With a face and body like that, Seth was happy to sit back and watch him.

Looking up, he saw Moxley standing there on the apron, scowling after Tyler. His jaw was tightly clenched, his hooded eyes unreadable. What a strange guy. He ducked into the ring and stalked over to a corner, leaning back against the turnbuckle, openly staring at the other students, apparently sizing them up. None of them matched him in height, but several were heavier, carrying an impressive amount of bulk on their frames.

"The first thing every wrestler needs to learn is how to bump correctly," Seth explained, dipping under the rope and stepping into the ring. "Without that skill, you're pretty much screwed. Safety is paramount. Your career won't last very long if you can't protect yourself properly."

He moved to the centre of the canvas and started pairing them up. "Tyler, you can work with…"

"Me," Moxley said, still observing from his corner.

Tyler's head snapped around, his eyebrows rising in surprise at the offer. Well, it hadn't been an offer as much as a confirmed statement.

"Is that okay with you, Tyler?" Seth queried, looking back and forth between the two men.

"…Yeah," Tyler nodded, his response sounding less confident than he had probably intended.

"Okay, we'll get started then," Seth said, eyeing Tyler as he approached Moxley, resembling a lamb going to slaughter. "You're going to learn how to run the ropes and take a bump properly. Pay close attention to this, we don't want any injuries ever, least of all the first night. If you're unsure of anything, ask me. It's better to be safe than sorry."

Seth spent the next few minutes explaining the basics, demonstrating himself, ensuring that he went at a slow pace and covered every little detail. He was meticulous in his instructions, intent on guaranteeing the safety of his students. He had always prided himself on being a safe worker and wanted to instill that same pride in them.

When everyone felt confident enough to give it a shot, he put each pairing through their paces one by one. Each student bounced off the ropes toward their partner and took a simple back bump. Moxley and Tyler were the last pair to go, remarkable because of how different they were. Although both were blond, Tyler's hair was edging on platinum and was styled in a neat ponytail, while Moxley's was a wild mass of honey coloured curls. Mox had the height and bulk advantage, while Tyler had better definition and tone.

"You're up first, Moxley," Seth said from the apron, leaning in, curious to see how he fared. Seth had been relentless, calling him out on every shortcoming all evening, whether real or imagined. This was his first time seeing if he could handle being in the ring.

Moxley got some nice leverage when he bounced off the ropes, running full tilt at Tyler who extended his forearm, with Moxley landing squarely on his back just as Seth had demonstrated, executing a near perfect bump.

The other students clapped and whooped, seemingly supportive of the blow-in all of a sudden. He moved fluidly for a guy of his size and oozed endless amounts of confidence in his ability.

Moxley looked up at Seth, awaiting his verdict. Seth pursed his lips, dragging out the suspense, his expression unreadable.

"Sub-par," he shrugged. "The execution needs to be clean. Yours was…ugly."

Several quiet gasps were audible, the other students sharing uneasy looks. Seth had happily praised every other attempt, no matter how clumsy or uncoordinated. Moxley had outperformed them all, but Seth refused to acknowledge it.

Moxley stared up at the ceiling for a moment, absorbing Seth's words. Without looking at him, he stood up and prepared for Tyler's attempt.

Tyler easily bounced off of the ropes, running directly into a stiff forearm from Moxley. The blond man fell to the mat with a sick thump, wincing in pain.

Seth watched the whole thing with disbelieving eyes, quickly crouching down next to Tyler, checking his body for injuries.

"Tyler, are you okay?"

"…Yeah…I'm okay…" Tyler coughed.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Seth snapped, looking up at Moxley with accusing eyes. "You could have seriously hurt him. You didn't follow my instructions."

"I tried following your instructions last time, but my work was… _ugly_ ," Moxley shrugged, unfazed. "So I tried something different this time. He's fine. I made him look like a million bucks."

"Your actions were completely irresponsible! It's not about making people look good yet, it's about being fucking _safe_. He wouldn't look good with a _broken neck_."

Moxley's face remained blank, which only served to infuriate Seth even more.

"Alright, let's see if you can follow this," Seth began, standing up and planting his hands on his hips. "If you can beat me in a WoD, you can stay for the entire semester. If not, you and your bad attitude walk out of here right now."

Moxley's eyes lit up with interest. "You're on."

The rest of the students stared at Moxley in shock, wondering if he had a death wish…and maybe he did.

"We'll do the exact same WoD I made you do earlier," Seth said, rolling his shoulders, slapping his biceps. "Right here in the ring. Five minutes to do as many reps as possible."

By now, Marek and the other group had wandered over to the ring, watching the spectacle unfold.

"Uh, Seth? You sure about this?" Marek called out to his friend, his brow furrowed.

"Positive," Seth replied, never taking his eyes off of the man in front of him.

"Moxley? You sure you wanna do this?"

"100%, Marek," Moxley answered, staring right back at Seth.

"Alright then…uh, I guess I'll be timekeeper then." Marek pulled his phone out of his pocket, yelling for them to start.

Seth's body immediately sprung into action, his movements sleek and quick, wasting no energy. He was surprised to see Moxley keeping up with him, cleanly executing the moves in spite of his exhaustion.

Three minutes in, Moxley was still keeping pace. Seth frowned, suddenly feeling worried. What if Moxley maintained his speed? Or worse – what if he beat him? It was almost laughable – a professional punk beating a professional athlete? Hardly. But as Moxley continued to stare at him, his eyes appearing almost black due to his enlarged pupils, Seth's unease continued to grow. It spurred him on to ignore his aching muscles and the rivulets of sweat that flowed freely down his body. He could do this. He _had_ to do this. There was so much at stake, not least of all his pride.

By minute four, Moxley's legs were shaking violently, sheer will being the only thing holding him up. Seth begrudgingly admired his tenacity. The guy simply wasn't going to give up. His face was red, his shirt drenched in sweat, his breathing erratic. He really didn't look too good…

4:50.

That was the exact time that Moxley collapsed to his knees, groaning and rolling over on to his back, his chest rising and falling at an alarming rate. Seth almost stopped to check on him…almost. His head overruled his heart, ordering him to continue, to finish the workout.

"Five minutes. You did it, Seth," Marek called out, his tone betraying his disappointment.

"You heard the man," Seth said, still trying to catch his breath. "Moxley!"

The blond-haired man remained on his back, his eyes closed, trembling.

"Look at me, Moxley," Seth demanded, remembering why they had both willingly put themselves through hell for the past few minutes.

Moxley looked peaceful when he opened his eyes, his face calm in contrast to his shaking body. He looked…wildly beautiful.

"I won," Seth stated, but the words felt empty.

Moxley nodded.

"So…get out. Go." Seth knew he sounded like a giant asshole, but he had to be firm. It was the _principle_ of the thing.

Moxley grunted and nodded again, but still didn't move.

"I said _go_ ," Seth repeated, conscious of their audience.

"Yeah…" Moxley rasped out, his arms jerking outward, trying to raise himself up on his elbows.

" _Now_ ," Seth insisted, wanting to get this over and done with. He wasn't taking any pleasure in this. It wasn't going like he had planned.

Seth, desperate to be rid of Moxley and the rapidly growing pit in his stomach, nudged the other man's shoulder with his foot, trying to get him moving.

When Moxley still didn't manage to drag himself into an upright position, Seth knew it was time for last resorts.

Leaning down, he spoke clearly, "You _failed_. Now get outta my ring."

Moxley's eyes locked on his, the haze of exhaustion lifting abruptly.

With a herculean effort, Moxley pulled himself to his feet, saluting the group as he staggered over to grab his bag before making his way out of the building. The entire class watched him go until he disappeared out of view.

There.

Seth had got what he wanted.

…So why did he feel like a complete scumbag?

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for your reviews! I think this is uncharted territory, I've never come across a Mox/Seth fic, so having your support is awesome. I'll be honest : reviews = updates. To those of you who review, I appreciate it so, so much. To those of you who read but don't review, a few words would make my day. I always say this, but I take this writing lark seriously, and it's nice to know when my hard work is appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

Seth entered the Box with a lot less enthusiasm the following night. His run-in with Moxley was running on repeat in his mind, his actions leaving him feeling ashamed. He had expected to put the kid in his place and drive him away, but it had gone a lot further than that. It had gone way past teaching a cock-sure young punk a lesson. He had lost his cool, humiliated Moxley, and probably made his students think he was the biggest asshole in the world.

He sure _felt_ like the biggest asshole in the world.

"Hey dude," he called out to Marek, who merely nodded at him. "What's the cold shoulder for?"

"Are you _that_ much of a dumbass?" came the reply.

"If this is about the Moxley thing, you can-"

"Of _course_ it's about the Moxley thing," Marek cut in. "You went too far last night. For somebody so concerned with reputation, you sure as hell shot yours to shit."

Seth rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, "I'm not proud of how I behaved. The kid got in my head and I fucked up, okay? Now can we please move on?"

"I don't know…" Marek trailed off, his eyes flicking past Seth.

Turning around, Seth's jaw dropped. The source of his irritation, lust and remorse had just entered the Box, head down, hoodie up, the unmistakable blond curls peeking out from beneath the grey material. Moxley moved a little stiffly, obviously still feeling the effects from their challenge the night before. He ambled right past them and headed into the locker room, not paying any attention to them.

"Did he just…? What…what the hell is he doing here?" Seth sputtered, once again knocked on his ass by Moxley's audacity.

"He must be a glutton for punishment…" A voice muttered nearby.

Tyler Breeze stood by the ring, arms crossed, looking highly irritated. Seth apparently wasn't the only one that Moxley had managed to piss off.

When Tyler noticed Seth and Marek looking at him, he immediately straightened up and beamed at them. "I guess we all have a little masochist inside of us, I know _I_ sure do…"

The pointed look he threw at Seth was far from subtle, followed by the exaggerated swing of his hips as he walked over to fill up his water bottle.

" _Anyway_ …" Marek continued, shaking his head at their student's lack of shame. "I don't know why he's here. If I were him, I'd be out there slashing your tyres, not coming back for more hell."

"He really _must_ be a masochist if he's rocking back up here as if nothing happened," Seth remarked, placing his stuff in the corner and taking off his shirt.

Seth watched the locker room door like a hawk, not wanting to miss Moxley when he re-emerged. What kind of kid was he? Who came back for more after being humiliated publicly? He obviously had a few screws loose.

Moxley strolled out of the changing area, dressed for a workout, carefree and relaxed.

Seth strode over to him, heat coursing through his veins, frustrated by his inability to read the guy.

"What are you doing here? I thought it was settled that you're not cut out for this."

Seth, if nothing else, was consistent. Once he had been an asshole, it kind of just kept on coming.

Moxley continued walking, rolling his neck and shoulders as he made his way over to the weights.

Frowning, Seth followed him and tapped him on the shoulder.

Moxley threw a cursory glance over his shoulder, surprise etched on his face. He reached up, drawing Seth's attention to the headphones that were concealed by his wild, messy hair. He slid them down to rest against his neck, his other hand fiddling at something on the waist of his shorts.

Seth's eyes widened in disbelief.

A _Walkman_ …? What was this – the 1980s?

Where did he even find one of those things? eBay?

"Yeah?" Moxley asked, looking at him expectantly.

"Wh…uh, what are you doing here?" Seth asked, without any real conviction. His indignation deflated rapidly, leaving him standing there awkwardly.

"I'm here to work out," Moxley answered, as if it should have been obvious, gesturing at the barbell in front of him.

"Really? Well, uh, we've got class now, so you can't." God, he felt like a tool. But his stubborn nature wouldn't let him drop it.

"Paul said I can," Moxley said, shrugging his broad shoulders.

"When? He never mentioned it to us," Seth replied, crossing his arms, happy to grasp a new line of argument.

"He said he left you guys a voicemail. Maybe you should check your phone."

Seth narrowed his eyes, but reached into his pocket and dialed his voicemail. He never took his eyes off Moxley, who remained still, not looking the least bit worried.

"Hey Seth, Paul here. I know we agreed that we'd clear out the Box while class was in session, but I said this Jon Moxley kid could train at night. He won't be any trouble. Thanks man, catch ya later."

Shit.

Moxley had been telling the truth.

Sighing, Seth shrugged. "Fine. Whatever. Just stay out of our way."

"That won't be a problem," Moxley assured him, giving him a look that suggested Seth should step away and get back to minding his own business.

Cursing under his breath, he stalked back over to the group of assembled students, determined to ignore the unwelcome intruder.

"Fifteen burpees, get going!" He barked, pissed off that Moxley had gained the upper hand and made him look like an idiot. _Again_.

Despite his best intentions, Seth couldn't help but watch Moxley as the evening progressed. Honestly, Seth had expected him to half-ass it for thirty minutes and then take off, but Moxley was still going strong two hours later. He wasn't taking it easy by any standards, putting himself through a grueling workout, sweat freely dripping from his body.

He had to hand it to the kid – he could certainly take a beating and still walk out on the other side. It reminded him of the grittiness that Moxley had displayed the night before. He refused to give up, to the point of stupidity, where his body was begging him to stop.

Moxley was hypnotic. He had a kooky charisma that made it difficult for Seth to tear his eyes away. His mouth was particularly interesting, constantly changing shape, his lips pressed tightly together one second, then falling open to gasp out shallow breaths the next.

And then there was his tongue. The fucking thing never stopped moving. Sliding along his lips, poking out of the corner of his mouth, the full flat length lewdly hanging out. Was it really necessary to do that while exercising? It was more than a little distracting…

So distracting, in fact, that Seth stood around for most of the class, barely participating in the drills, preferring to stand and observe…even if his attention was primarily focused on somebody who wasn't a student.

The more Seth thought about Moxley, the more his curiosity grew. What was his story? How had he ended up here? What had inspired him to pursue wrestling? Where the hell did he get a _Walkman_ in 2015? And what was he listening to on that ancient thing…?

It was almost eleven when Moxley finally finished up, pouring a copious stream of water over himself, causing his white shirt to turn translucent, highlighting his thick pecs. Yes, he wasn't in extremely good shape like Seth, but he sure as hell had something nice going on with his own shape. He was thick in the best way, his body built to carry muscle if he'd just work on building more of the stuff.

Seth's blood fired up, thinking of all the things that he'd like to do to Moxley. Hearing him beg for his cock was the dream. He could just imagine the deep, raspy pleas that he could pull from the kid, using all of that pent up frustration to relentlessly bring him to the edge over and over again. Seth wouldn't be satisfied until he heard those words. Along with being consistent, he was dogged when pursuing the things he wanted.

And he wanted Moxley.

The blond-haired man was spunky. There was something special about him, a devil-may-care attitude wrapped up in dimples and pretty blue eyes. As much as he hated to admit it, the guy had talent too. Seth had been unwilling to say as much, but Moxley had easily outshone every other student. He had _it_ , and _it_ could not be taught.

Seth's stomach dropped when he saw Moxley walk out of the Box without so much as a backwards glance. But really, what had he expected? He had been an asshole to him two nights in a row. Moxley probably wanted nothing to do with him.

Marek announcing the end of the session brought him back to reality, shaking his head to clear the haze that had hung over him for the past three hours. If Moxley was going to Crossfit here, he had to get used to it, and not allow his presence to distract him from his ultimate goal. He was here to train the future, not fantasise about fucking them.

"Hey, Seth?"

"Yeah, Marek?"

"Get your shit together before class next week."

He could feel his cheeks burning, the heat spreading up to the tops of his ears.

"Uh, yeahhh…I'll catch you later."

Seth snagged his gear and pulled on a sweater, eager to get home and sort his head out.

The night sky was inky blue, a sharp white frost hanging distinctively in the air. Sweatpants would have been the more sensible option, but he had opted for shorts instead. Sometimes, he just didn't know what was good for him.

He turned the corner, heading for where he had parked his car, when he was roughly shoved back against the brick wall. Seth instantly dropped his bag, readying himself to fight off his attacker…only to find Moxley staring right back at him, his forearm resting against Seth's throat.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Seth gasped, shock paralysing his muscles.

"Taking care of business," Mox responded darkly, his voice low and threatening.

It suddenly occurred to Seth that he could be in serious trouble. The guy in front of him looked dangerous. Gone were the dimples and dreamy blue eyes, replaced by a grim line of a mouth and eyes so dark they almost looked onyx. For all he knew, Moxley could have a knife tucked away somewhere.

Seth wisely chose to stay silent for once in his life, as his pulse throbbed at the base of his throat, likely thumping right into Moxley's arm, giving away his fear.

"You know, you're quite appealing when you're not running your mouth, Bambi," Moxley murmured, leaning in close, his hot breath caressing Seth's ear. "I saw you watching me tonight. Couldn't take those pretty eyes off me, could you?"

Seth gulped, unable to come up with a convincing denial. He hadn't been very subtle. He had been blatantly eye-fucking the dude.

"Gone all quiet on me…? Come on, answer me."

His voice was like honey, soothing, and caused Seth to melt back against the hard wall. Moxley pressed his body forward, the relative softness moulding to the hard lines of Seth's own physique.

"…No."

"No…what?"

"No, I couldn't take my eyes off you," Seth breathed out in a rush. Everything about this guy got him all hot and bothered, his heart hammering against his chest, his dick throbbing in his shorts, his hips shifting restlessly. He had never been into bad boys, but goddamn it if there wasn't something about this Moxley punk.

Unfortunately, the fucker knew what he was working with, and how it affected Seth.

"Some honesty, I like it," Moxley said approvingly, nuzzling into Seth's neck. "You know, you weren't very nice to me last night…."

Seth groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

"You said some pretty mean things, and made me look silly in front of the other students…"

"You're not a student!"

Seth clamped his mouth shut, wondering how he functioned in the world sometimes. He needed to get a grip and watch his words. As nice as Moxley was being right now, his switch could easily flip, which would mean a whole world of trouble for him.

"Still haven't let go of that, huh?" Moxley chuckled, continuing to nuzzle Seth affectionately, the gentle action at odds with the arm that rested firmly against Seth's throat, restricting his movement. "I think you owe me an apology, Seth."

Hearing that voice say his name sent a little thrill of pleasure through his body.

"I-I'm sorry," Seth pushed out, trying to tamp down on his arousal. Now was not the time for Moxley to feel his erection brushing against him.

As if reading his thoughts, Moxley's free hand slid down to the front of Seth's shorts and cupped his cock, squeezing it firmly.

"I'm glad to hear it. You know what would make me feel all better?"

Seth swallowed with difficulty, his eyes rolling back in his head when he felt Moxley's large hand gripping him so beautifully. All reason had fled, all of his blood now pumping down south. He was only concerned with keeping Moxley in close proximity.

"Hmm, what's that?" His voice cracked as he spoke, his primal need taking him apart piece by piece.

The whispered words that followed would prove to be his undoing.

"…I want you to take me home, Seth."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for your reviews, they were so great to read! Basically, reviews = updates.**

 **What do you see happening to these two next...? What does Mox have planned for Seth...?**


	4. Chapter 4

Un petit mort.

A small death.

Seth finally understood the significance of that phrase after his…encounter with Moxley. Encounter felt like a very fancy word for something that had been raw and crude and, well, pretty fucking great. But what other word could be used to describe letting a guy pull you to your car, and breaking speed limits at his command to get you back to your house, listening intently all the while as he murmured the ways by which he intended to make you fall apart in that ridiculous bedroom voice of his…?

Stupid. That word could also sum up his actions that night too.

Regardless, Seth didn't regret it. Anything that felt that good was something that he simply couldn't regret. A part of him wished that he hadn't become so enamoured with a student, and let Moxley get inside his head. But his _other_ head had been adamant that he get them home and act on all of the obscene impulses that had been triggering his muscles to jump and twitch all night long.

Moxley made him forget the bitter cold as he scrambled for his key, jamming it into the lock and twisting it sharply, almost bending the metal out of shape in his haste. The large body pressed up against his back, coupled with the soft lips trailing up his neck and insistent hands grabbing at his cock through his shorts didn't do anything to help him concentrate on his task.

By some miracle, he managed to get the door open, reaching around to hook a finger into one of Moxley's belt loops and dragging him inside. The younger man kicked the door shut, shoving Seth up against the wall, grabbing him by the waist and jerking his hips forward until they were flush up against his own.

Their mouths met in a hot, wet kiss, Seth gasping out strained moans that Moxley eagerly swallowed right up. Moxley rocked his hips back and forth, grinding their dicks together, purposeful and devious. Seth felt Moxley's lips morph into a smirk through their kisses, triumph causing him to pull Seth even closer, his fingers digging right into the defined V-lines that he found when he reached under Seth's shirt.

"That Crossfit shit is good for _something_ ," he mumbled against Seth's lips. "Giving you this hot, tight body."

Seth warmed at the words, his ego purring contentedly. Moxley's comments had hit upon one of his weaknesses. He knew that he looked damn good, but for somebody to confirm it in a rasping growl that was clearly fuelled by raw lust was fucking _delicious_. It had often been said that his pride would lead to his downfall, but he stubbornly continued to place a huge amount of emphasis on it.

Moxley dragged the pads of his fingers over Seth's abs, making deep noises of approval as he explored every dip and ridge. The feel of calloused skin rubbing over his own soft skin ignited a fire in Seth's bloodstream, his hips pushing against Moxley impatiently, demanding more attention. Moxley's kisses left him feeling drugged, his head sluggish and difficult to hold up - the exact opposite of his cock. It was hard and ready, pulsing, needing to fucking _drill_ into the man in front of him.

"How about you bend over and let me show you what this hot, tight body can do," Seth breathed out harshly, itching to shrug out of his clothes. They felt tight and restrictive, despite being loose and comfortable. His whole body was wound up, tense and ready to go. Had been since Moxley first appeared at the Box the night before.

Moxley didn't respond right away, preferring to pull Seth's shirt off and run his hands over his chest, paying particular attention to his nipples. "Slow down there, Bambi. You don't want me to think you're a two pump chump, do you…? Let's take our time."

Seth frowned, briefly offended. "No, of course not. I can go all night. I can prove it."

Moxley leaned in to drop a chaste kiss on his lips, chuckling a little to himself. "You really wanna impress me, don't you? You were strutting around like a peacock last night, then had to try and one up me during our little challenge. Chill the fuck out, Bambi. I'm here, ain't I? You'll get to enjoy me if you play by my rules."

"Rules…?" Seth wasn't all that interested in abiding by rules, he hadn't ascended to the top of the company by following along like a good little boy. It surprised him that Moxley had a set of rules, he didn't strike Seth as the type to adhere to the expectations of others. "What does a guy like _you_ know about rules?"

"A guy like _me_?" Moxley smirked, pinching Seth's nipples until he gasped and tried to squirm away. He pushed himself right up against Seth, the material of his hoodie abrasive over Seth's now sensitive nipples. "Think you know me, Bambi?"

Seth moaned loudly, his nipples stinging from the rough treatment…and he loved it.

"You thought you knew me last night…and look how that turned out. When you assume, you make an ass out of you and…you." Moxley's tone was sing-song playful, his eyes glittering even in the dark hallway. "You couldn't take your eyes off me. Tell me what you were thinking as you perved over me."

"Perved? I was _not_ perving…" Seth's protestations were half-hearted, even to his own ears.

Moxley's eyebrows disappeared into his messy curls, not buying a word of it.

"Fine," Seth sighed, shifting from one foot to the other. This wasn't how he had pictured this going. In his mind, _he_ had been the one calling the shots, yanking moans from Moxley, making him beg for his cock. But, despite things not going to plan, he couldn't say that he wasn't enjoying himself. "I thought you had a smart mouth, it got me thinking what else you could do with your mouth…"

Moxley whistled lowly, tracing a single finger from the hollow of Seth's throat all the way down to the waistband of his shorts. "Who knew there was such a filthy mind behind this pretty face?"

"I'm not pretty," Seth huffed, his raging boner causing his temper to fray.

"Pretty _and_ pissed off - my favourite." Moxley slid Seth's shorts and boxers down, helping him step out of them and kicking them away. He took hold of Seth's dick in a firm grip but didn't move. "I'm a nice guy, Bambi. If you had given me a chance when I first walked through those doors, you would've seen it. But just like you, I can be a fuck nugget too. Maybe we're cut from the same cloth, you and I. Bet you'd hate to admit that, wouldn't you?"

"I-I'm sorry about last night," Seth whispered, willing to say pretty much anything if it got him some action. He consoled himself with that thought, but was also smart enough to admit to himself that he truly did regret his douchebag behaviour. "Cocky assholes rub me the wrong way."

"Interesting choice of words," Moxley murmured, dropping to the wooden floor suddenly, a loud bang echoing down the hallway. "We both know I rub you juuuust right. And just _wait_ 'til I suck you."

Sweet relief coursed through Seth's system at that statement, silently thanking every deity that he could think of for getting Moxley on his knees.

"I'm waiting…"

Seth glanced down at the man in front of him, puzzled. "What?"

"I'm waiting for you to say the magic word."

Seth rolled his eyes, "The magic word." He gasped when a sharp slap landed on the outside of his thigh, a reminder of those very important Moxley rules. If falling in line with them got that sweet pink mouth on his dick, he would do it. "Sorry. Habit." Moistening his lips, he took a deep breath and looked directly at Moxley. " _Please_ suck my cock."

"Since you asked so nicely," Moxley grinned, leering up at him. He leaned forward and dragged his tongue all the way up Seth's length, earning a full body shudder for his efforts. Both hands gripped it then, his tongue darting out to flick at the head. He watched Seth as he did this, observing muscles seizing and contracting with every lick and squeeze. As quickly as he had started, Moxley dropped his hands and shifted backward, frowning.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Seth asked, opening his eyes and looking down, desperation owning him.

"You closed your eyes," Moxley accused, leaning back on his heels.

"Uh yeah, that's what I do when I'm getting head from somebody," Seth sputtered, raising his hands to emphasise his point.

"You're not getting head from just _anybody_ ," Moxley replied, his voice quiet and dangerous. "You're getting it from Jon fucking Moxley. If I get down on my knees for you, you're gonna fucking _watch_ me work."

"Yes, yes, yes, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Seth bent forward at the waist, clasping Moxley's shoulders and kissing him deeply. "I'll keep them open. I'll watch every second. I promise."

Moxley smiled, his own eyes still closed. "I like it when you're all desperate and needy. Really does something for me, Bambi." Taking Seth by the hips, he pushed him back, settling him against the wall and holding him there. He licked his lips, making a show of wiggling his tongue back and forth, getting it warmed up. He ducked his head to take Seth's dick in his mouth, swallowing it down in one smooth go. Seth gawked at the sight, making an embarrassingly loud noise, something between a plea and a groan of relief.

The sight before him was lascivious and downright pornographic. Right up Seth's alley, to be honest. Moxley's bad boy vibe was really working for him. He had to hold back a moan as he watched the demanding fucker slurp up his cock without any hesitation, his large, rough hands feeling up Seth's thighs and roaming around to cup his ass cheeks firmly.

It took every ounce of Seth's self-control to keep his gaze focused squarely on Moxley's face and mouth. Not that it wasn't a pleasant visual, watching his length disappear between pretty pink lips, drool already starting to coat Moxley's mouth in his eagerness to take down every inch, but Seth's natural instincts told him to let his head fall back, shut his eyes and just _feel_. In spite of this, his competitive side enjoyed the challenge and wouldn't let him fail.

Moxley groped Seth's ass, enjoying the way every muscle tensed as he explored it with his hands. That Crossfit shit was nothing more than a cult for masochists, but goddamn if it didn't produce some nice results. Moxley wasn't picky, he'd fuck pretty much anything with a pulse, but Seth was an especially nice treat. His attitude made the game even more fun for Mox, it was always extra satisfying to break the assholes.

Seth's cock stretched his mouth nicely, sliding all the way in until it touched the back of his throat. He let his gag reflex act up a little, knowing how awesome that felt when your dick was as hard as this one was. Seth's cock was a worrying shade of purple, which tickled a mean fucker like Mox. The brutal shade was indicative of his need, an undeniable sign that he was into Mox, no matter how much he ran his mouth to the contrary back at the Box.

He paused when his lips closed around the base, rubbing his nose against Seth's non-existent stomach, breathing in his scent. The fucker smelled good, like money. His position in WWE meant money. Hell, his house told Mox all he needed to know about the state of Seth's bank account. Mr. Money in the Bank was raking in major dough.

"Oh _fuck_ , that feels good," Seth groaned, combing his fingers through Moxley's hair, needing to grasp at _something_. Although Moxley's words were sinful ninety percent of the time, his mouth was nothing short of heaven. Wet, warm, and surprisingly welcoming.

Not to mention he had the suction power of a fucking vacuum cleaner. He seemed quite content to suck away, not caring to take a break and breathe. He hummed and turned his head from side to side, sneakily sliding a hand from Seth's ass down to his taint, gently massaging it. Seth swore loudly, gripping Moxley's hair harshly. Moxley pulled off of his dick and scowled, rubbing his tender scalp. "Watch it, Rollins. Show some gratitude."

"S-sorry," Seth said sheepishly, shoving his hands behind his back, keen for Moxley to continue. "I'll behave."

"You better," Moxley warned, his eyes glimmering onyx once again, arousal darkening his gaze. He sucked a forefinger into his mouth, lapping at it lazily, pumping it in and out at a leisurely pace. Seth whined, envious of a fucking _finger_.

That finger returned to Seth's taint, wetly rubbing back and forth. Moxley swirled his tongue around the head of Seth's cock, tracing over every line of vein, demanding that it give him everything. Seth's hips began to roll forward, pushing down on that sly finger as it stirred up new and wonderful sensations, burying his dick in that pretty mouth when he surged forward. Moxley let him move, satisfied that Seth kept his eyes trained on him at all times.

There was no finesse to it, but there _was_ a whole heap of skill. Moxley's sloppy, dirty style lit Seth up in new and unexpected ways. He couldn't even pretend to suppress his pleasure, moaning loudly when Moxley licked him _just_ right, his abs tightening when he found a particularly sensitive spot. For a man that prided himself on stamina, he was close to losing it within minutes of Moxley wrapping his mouth around him.

Moxley was pure sex, watching Seth from beneath hooded lids, nuzzling into Seth's torso while he deep-throated him, that smooth babyface so at odds with the danger that lay beneath. The insistent pressure was making Seth lose his mind, running his hands through his hair, clenching his fists, trying to hold it back. He knew it was a losing battle. Moxley was a persistent fucker, if nothing else.

The man himself stood up abruptly, keeping Seth in hand. "Fuck my hand. Go on. Don't hold back. Do what I know you've been dying to."

Seth's eyes were brimming with gratitude, an entirely unfamiliar thing for him during sex, as he gave in to his desire and roughly moved back and forth into that warm, rough hand. Less than a minute later, his dick was spurting cum all over his abs, combining with the heavy coating of sweat. The hallway smelled like dirty sex - the best kind. He watched Moxley as he came, wanting to kiss the fucker and simultaneously smack the smug grin off his face.

" _Damn_ ," Seth panted, forcing strength into his legs, determined to stay upright. "Just… _damn_."

"I'm the best," Moxley shrugged, swiping a finger back and forth through the mess on Seth's stomach. He delicately licked the cum from his finger, smacking his lips together thoughtfully.

Seth stared at him, needing to hear the result. Did Moxley like how he tasted? Was he willing to bend over for him _now…_?

…and that's the last thing Seth remembered. He woke up on his couch hours later as the weak light of morning filtered into his living room. He was naked and achey, his muscles protesting when he tried to move. Frowning, he reached around to his asshole, prodding his entrance carefully. No. It hadn't seen any action. Seth hadn't bottomed in the longest time, if Moxley had been inside him last night, he would feel it. Instead, he felt at peace. Relaxed and happy, his body more at ease than it had been in quite a long time. A mind-blowing blowjob and he had slept like a baby. If he didn't feel so damn good, he would have been embarrassed at blowing his load so easily. Glancing around, he saw that he was alone. Good. He hadn't expected Moxley to stay...although it was a shame that he never got to enjoy that sweet hole of his.

Seth passed his weekend as he always did - working house shows, driving from town to town, checking out Boxes, some new, others more familiar. His mind wandered to Moxley every few hours, no matter how much he tried to distract himself with work and training. He was a fascinating character, and impossible to read. But it wasn't Seth's job to figure him out. He was a free spirit, completely unique. And would most likely be on his way back to Ohio.

Seth arrived back in Davenport the following Wednesday, satisfied with a solid week of work. He had been a delightful little shit on TV, caught some serious heel heat from the crowds, and cemented his prominence on the card. All of it would bring him closer to his ultimate goal - being top of the food chain, holding the gold. The thought made him smile as he entered the Box that evening, keen to see how the students had been progressing in his absence. He wanted them to pick up his best habits and enhance all aspects of their lives through training, diet and dedication to the craft. Wrestling had given him so much, he wanted the same for them.

"Nice job beating Cena this week," Marek greeted him, pulling him in for a hug. "Can you see the top of the mountain yet? You're getting close."

"It's in my sights," Seth grinned.

"Yeah, congratulations." A backslap accompanied the praise. Seth nodded in the general direction of the voice, preparing to ask Marek about the past couple days, when he was stopped dead in his tracks. That voice. He knew that voice. Had become all too familiar with it.

' _Moxley_ …?"

"Yeah." Seth spun around to find those pale blue eyes watching him from the ring, where their owner was casually leaning against the ropes. "'Sup?"

"What are you doing here in our ring?"

"Training," Moxley announced. "Marek offered me a place. I'm now _officially_ a student."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! What mess has Seth landed himself in now?**

 **I put a lot of effort into my stories, hearing what you think means a lot to me, so please review!**


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